Say Goodnight, Not Goodbye
by LibertyBelle'S
Summary: Letters to the Unknown. Completed. Future Fic.
1. Chapter 1

_The past can't hurt us anymore _

I think it's childish to say that it is the truth. I dealt with this issue a part of my life. Running away from my past, walking away from all those little pieces of darkness surrounding my life. The more I kept telling myself that the past is the past, the more it found a way of digging itself out.

I lied to myself thinking that it doesn't affect who I was or who I wanted to be. Lies. They're being lies. The past is who I am in the present. But this doesn't really matter when you think about it. It's who you want to be, what choices you want to make that really matters and affects you.

I don't believe in good and wrong. Silver lining is what keeps the world going around. At least that is what I want to convince myself.

How I feel about destiny? I wish I could say I believe in it, I wish I could say I don't. I guess a part of me is delusional and thinks destiny reigns our lives. The other part would think that destiny is weak and plays a role only if you let it.

I am nothing special. I haven't cured the starvation, I haven't even tried. I haven't written _Gone with the wind_, haven't painted Mona Lisa, haven't sung Elvis' "Always on my mind". When I'll be long gone of that planet, my name will be forgotten and will just be one in a million graved on a stone in a cemetery. I will just be a number amongst others.

You may think of me as the pessimistic one. And maybe you are right. But I'd remember being realistic. I have lived my life without a code. I had fears and doubts. I had joy and tears. I smiled, I cried.

Reflecting on your life. I wish I had known to do that before. Thinking of your choices and analyzing them. Contemplating your mistakes and learn from them.

I remember being a kid, growing up and aging. In a lifetime I've learned one true thing. Life is life. As simple as it sounds, it just is. No matter how you want to portray it, examine it or write it, life will still be life. And death will still be death. No matter how nicely you say it, how lovely you want to make it sound, it will still remain the greatest mystery.

Mystery's a part of the charm. It is intriguing, it is puzzling, it is mesmerizing. The human heart is the biggest secret ever made. It is strong and it is weak at the same time. Yet it is the most talked about.

There are books, movies, songs, essays, classes about love. I remember reading that quote in what seems another life about it.

_Love. Not just this feeling many people think they're having inside of their mind. Now I'm talking about an independent being that you feel you are. Being in love, being loved. I don't know if I've ever gone to feel that way. But that's not the point. That will never be the point. The only thought of the possibility keeps me from surrendering. Love is tragic. You just have to look around you. The greatest authors wrote the greatest novel with tragic love. But having that faith, knowing that you're meant for something, that you're meant for someone, is just the simplest thing, but the strongest strength. _

I remember smirking while reading it, I still have that smile now that I read it again. How naïve of me thinking that was true, you will say. And you have the right to mock. I was naïve then, and I am naïve now. I may have lost my innocence long ago, but I still have that pureness of thinking.

I have been deceived more than once. I have been hurt and broken more than I can reckon. And yet I still believe in brightness. Have I ever loved? I wish I could answer you simply. I wish I could tell you how it feels and explain it to you. But that would ridiculously waste your time. If you ever want to know about love, don't read it, don't write it, don't even listen to it. Just live it. That would be the only advice I could give you. Live love. And remember to live it fully, inconsiderately, completely.

Love is nothing if you don't share it. Share it with your family, your friends, your cats and dogs. Don't let yourself survive in a world where money and fame is what you cherish the most. I spent a long time praying I could make my life more exciting, less boring, praying I could make it great. I would have killed to realize how foolish I was being back then and how I was wasting precious moments I could have spent on some things more meaningful. I was always reaching for something more. I was uncommonly tired of being _fine_. But I know now that I was being real. _Fine_ is real.

So many thoughts and realizations I wish I would have had sooner. When I was crying for scratching my knee for the first time at 8 months old, when I was grinning for my first present at 2, when I was laughing for my first prank at 6, when I was sighing for my first course of Spanish at 13, when I was bawling for my first heartache at 16, when I was writing letter for my first and only lover.

My life wouldn't have been greater or even better if I had those realizations sooner. I just would have known that I was living Life.

You may think that letter is full of regrets, maybe even of bitterness. But I like to think this is nothing of that. I like to think of it as my goodnight to life.

My life ended with his. My life ended when he has been taken away from me those two undying months ago. I shall not say how it happened. And honestly, I don't think it really matters. I've spent the last 7 and a half weeks trying to find answers, those last 58 sleepless nights trying to put words on how I feel. 1392 hours of missing his voice, missing his touch and kisses, missing the look he had when he told me he loved me, missing the shivers he had when I was kissing his eyelid to wake him up every day we lived together, missing his warmth next to me every night we shared, missing his scent when I was snuggling him during every movie we watched.

I will always remember him, I will see him in our son's dreamy blue eyes, I will see him in our daughter's smile, I will see him in my tears. His voice may soon outshine, his scent fade away, and his image stand aside, he will always be with me. He's in every dawn, in every breeze, in every sunset, in every star.

I'm sitting here on the couch we bought, the couch on where our little Holden were conceived, remembering all the time we spent just being together. Surprisingly I haven't first thought about those wild nights at Vegas, or about our wedding and honeymoon, or even about our first times – first nicknames, first hand holding, first nose grazing, first stroke. No, I first thought about that stormy night where he taught me how to feel complete. The outside was raging, my heart was pounding as our clothes were lessening. His capturing eyes just looked into mine and I felt his mouth lingering where my heart is. That was the moment when he grazed into my soul and let himself inside of me for the rest of my life. A moment I still think of dearly today.

For what seems the longest time, I have let myself wandering in a world where I would still have your hand in my hair, where I would still have your warm breath on me when we embrace our bodies in that rare passion, where I would still hear you groan in the morning. I knew how all those simplest things made me feel. And I am not worried about forgetting any of that. It is anchored in who I am and in how I feel. You made the person I am today. The widow who still loves her husband, the mother who still kisses her children goodnight, the woman who still believes in love.

I know my life ended when you faded away. But somehow, life kept going on for me. It kept going on for Holden and Rosalind. The afternoon your soul has walked away from ours, I promised myself I will not let our brood as clueless as I was until I met you, even until today. Though you are not there to show them, they will know you love them, no matter where you are, no matter where you are not. They will know I have loved their father until today and always. They will live love as how you have taught me just by stroking my eyebrows or blowing on my neck. They will live love as I can make them feel for both of us.

I just realized that once again I have been talking as if you were here. From "him", I've slowly passed to "you" when I refer to my husband. Who knew I, Brooke Davis, would have gotten married in the first place. I still can see myself read the letter you left after sneaking into my room when I was in the shower. I remember seeing the black ink you used to write the words that I have learnt by heart.

_When you'll feel yourself sink into the darkness of the uncertainty, just remember how I feel about you and let it convince you that I will always be with you. _

You always had a way with words. And more significantly, you always had a way with me. Good or bad thing, I still don't know, but I always smile at the thought.

Sometimes I catch myself wandering on the beach, stopping at the swings you've claimed as ours the first time we stayed swaying while watching the sun rising after escaping from a tremendously boring party of your brother. And you quoted that writer: _The blue sky can fall down on us, the earth can collapse under our feet, the sea can drown the world, no matter what, I will keep how you make me feel with me._

As the memories of our life together flow back to me, I can't help but wipe away the tears that keep coming. I blame myself for feeling that way because I know you wouldn't want me to cry over the elation of the things we've done. And this is normally when either Holden or Rosalind come into the room, sit with me and try to keep the promise they made to you. They are amazing. I love them more than Shakespeare or Hemingway could have ever written or described. Look what you have done to me, I am now talking about writers. And as weird as it sounds, this is probably why I love you so much. I love you for helping me to grow as the person I have become, I love you for the things I do, I love you for the way you still make me feel and I love you for the things you taught me.

I love you, _Lucas_.

Who knew 5 letters would have been what made my world a brighter place to live. Who knew 5 letters would have been what completed me. Who knew.


	2. Chapter 2

I shall not start my last letter to you with a commonly boring « Dear Brooke ». I thought about it, I long hesitated, and I decided against it. Who knew I'd be sitting here, in front of the dark brown desk you bought me 6 years ago, tormenting myself over how to start a letter.

I just caught myself smiling over that blank page placed in front of me. This should not be difficult. This is not the first letter I've ever written to you, or the first leaf of paper I have ever had to fill. And yet it feels like the bravest thing I will do in my life.

I remember those early mornings when I would feel your eyes on me and pretend to be still asleep so that I could linger in that state of heart where chocolate milk and berry waffle would have to wait. I would sense the tip of your fingers grazing feathery at my jaw line, traveling slowly to my lips for a delicate moment. I would shiver when your mouth would get dangerously closer to the skin of my neck and sensually blow on it. I would betray myself with the smile that would be appearing when you would whisper good morning in my ear.

I remember those afternoons when, in a lost moment of inspiration, my mind would wander and travel with you. I would picture you at work, sitting at your desk, like I am right now in the room you rearranged for me, slightly biting your lower lip and loosely playing with a strand of your hair, trying to soothe your doubts for your next meeting with your editor. I would picture you in front of the kids' picture framed they offered you for Mother's day, smiling, your mind drifting back to the moment you caught them secretly making it in Rosalind's room. And I would remember a quote I wrote: _I will look through the window, waiting for the last rays of sun, thinking about those days where we would just stand, the rain pouring on us and our love pouring on the world._

I remember those late nights when, after tucking in the kids and kissing them goodnight, I would just watch you frowning at me for hiding your notebook in an attempt of sliding discreetly a note in between the pages. I would stroke your cute little nose when we would be watching the rerun of _Casablanca_, with your head on my lap. I would smile down at your eyes, unsuccessfully trying to struggle against tiredness. I would contently sigh right before falling asleep in our soothing bed, our eyes meeting one last time before slumber would reach us.

I remember falling in love. Falling in love with life with you, a life full of chocolate cookies and Diet Coke. Falling in love with your mind, a mind full of uncommon thoughts and surprising maturity. Falling in love with your heart, a heart full of strength and vulnerability.

I could have composed you another poem. I could have quoted a tremendous amount of writers. I could have enumerated all the things that make me fall in love with you every second of the day. But that would not still be enough to portray fairly my love for you. Any sound coming from my voice, any words coming from my mind, any beat coming from my heart would depict rightly how you have lightened my life.

I gave you my heart a long time ago. And you gave me the world for my every tomorrow. I got lost under your touch, I got lost into your eyes, I got lost over your smile. You gave me a forever with Rosalind's singing and you gave me a forever with Holden's glow. And yet I am still unsure if I should smile or cry when I think of you. Smile at the moments you spent with my eyes on you, or cry at those I won't have yours on me.

I went through our pictures albums not long ago. I was on the couch, with every fragment of our life together in front of me, trying to impregnate myself a last time of the joy we shared over the years. From our first cake to our first vacation. From Holden's first ice cream to Rosalind's first ballet.

I went over what I wrote so far. And I smiled. This is not how I wanted the last thing you will have from me to be. I wanted it to have that refreshing breath of air you give me when I see you. I wanted it to be that radiating sensation I feel when our arms are intertwined. I wanted it to be that captivating sentiment you provide me when you smile at me. I wanted it to be you, I wanted it to be me. I wanted it to be us.

I know you will get my letter. I know that after the grief, the tears and the pain you will go through the time following my departure, you will muster the strength to read _The Catcher in the Rye_ one last time, as I know you will. Only you know the place that book has in both of our heart. And there, in between the used pages of the book I bought you in the prologue of our life together, you will find my last words, written on that purple paper you like so much because it reminds you of the scent of Florence. I would have given the envelope to you myself, but I wanted you to get to read it when the time would be right. 8 weeks, 6 months, 4 years from now, I don't know. Only you can know.

I wish I could tell you when the right time will be there for you. I wish I could prevent you from having to get to wait for it. I wish I could stay pillow fighting with you and the kids longer. I wish I could stay seeing you cheering at Holden's soccer game longer. I wish I could stay watching you brushing Rosalind's silky brownish hair longer. I wish I could stay spelling invisible words on the palm of your hand with my fingers longer. I wish I could stay with you longer.

I am still uncertain of where I will be going, and honestly, I don't think I gave much thought about it either. I don't know where I will be. But you will be with me. I remember the time where we would just sit on the porch outside, smiling at the breeze coming from the stars. I remember that story you used to read to Rosalind every night.

_The night breeze is the whisper of the stars. Stars glow and blow on the world to remind us that they still exist. _I will be your breeze, Brooke. I will still be with you, just like I will keep you with me.

_Till Death do us part._ I know my love for you is stronger than any vow I made on that flowery day. Stronger than I have ever been. When the vows will fade away, my love will go on beyond my life. It will still shimmer. And you will still be my wife.

No matter where I will be, no matter how much time it will take, I'll be there waiting for you to wake up next to me again.

Goodnight, Brooke.


	3. Chapter 3

Holden and I saw Mom writing to you again the other day. She told us it helps her to be close to you, more than usual. She said something about a ritual you two had back in high school. So I decided to try to write to you, too. If Mom does it all the time, it must mean it works, right?

Umm…Is it normal that I feel weird doing it? I don't know, I feel weird, but I think I like this weird. Not weird like Pete Kelley spitting on walls kind of weird, just a good weird.

Holden is in the den, racing the miniature blue car you got him for his birthday forever ago. He doesn't know I'm writing you, and I bet he'd try it too the minute he'd hear I'm doing it. My brother never stops copying me, I swear! It's like yesterday morning, he saw me slipping a note in Mom's vest. Well today, I caught him putting one in her purse. I wasn't mad because it was cute. He doesn't like to write, you know that. It is totally like me and ducks, and you know how much I hate those little yellow thingies. But he still wrote something to Mom. He didn't tell me what he wrote but I'm sure it was something along the lines of "Mom, it's my birthday next week.", like we can forget about it, he talks about it all the time! Anyway, whatever the note was, I know Mom liked it because she bought us two giant banana ice creams when she picked us up at school. She told us it was her favorite ice cream flavor of all time. People thought it was cookie dough, but only you knew it wasn't. She even told us that after a fight you guys had about HDM or something, you sent letters and mixtapes to her everyday. (Talking about stalking habit, Dad) Anyway, after one week of silent treatment, one day, she stopped receiving anything. And that night, you just went to her apartment with a banana ice cream and at the end of the night, "_you completed her"_. I don't know what it means but I am sure it rocked because she forgave you. Yeah, you were a cool kid back then, Dad.

I like when Mom talks about what you guys used to do when you were young. Even if sometimes I have a hard time believing what she says. I mean, come on, like we're going to believe Aunt Hales, Aunt Peyt and she went to jail. I know Holden's favorite story is the one when Mom made you climb on that hill with her on your back when she faked twisting her ankle. I don't know what is mine, there are so many stories – and I'm sure there are some she hasn't told us yet. I think I love them all cause I just like when she talks about you. It makes her smile.

I think I like writing to you. Mom was right. I wish I will become just like her when I'll be older because she knows all, she's like God, except she is a woman. She's a God woman. Ugh, it sounds weird. What's the feminine of God? I'll look it up in the dictionary later. Anyway whatever it calls, she's like that. And she's pretty, too. Andie and Kayla say that I got like, the prettiest coolest mom ever. I think they're jealous because they don't like their mom. I'm glad that my mom is Mom. Because I know she loves me and Holden more than chocolate. And that means like, a lot! She says it all the time. And sometimes when I'm sad, she knows it and she comes to talk to me and if I'm still sad, she'll just do the most stupid things to make me laugh again. She's that cool!

Mom's funny, I like her when she's funny. It's like this time when she threw rocks on Uncle Nate's gym door. And she told me to help her and when he got out to see who did it, we ran towards the bushes and hid there for at least 20 minutes. She told me to never say anything about that to anyone, but I guess I can tell you. I mean, it's not like you didn't know, I heard her telling you when we got home that afternoon. That's when I realized that I was glad I was smart. She doesn't know I know she told you, it will be our secret okay Dad?

Do you think I could be a model and a mechanic when I'll be a grown up? When we went to the Saturday's dinner at Aunt Hales and Uncle Nate's house, Ryder said I can't because it's too different. I told Mom in the car and she told me that if I want, it can work because sometimes different things can be cool together. Like you and Mom, you guys were, like, way different too, and you worked great together. She told me about the time when you help her when she had to make dresses. She even showed us the picture of you when you modeled for her in one of her light blue dress. I gotta say dad, you looked good in it! No wonder I'm so pretty in a dress with the Mom and Dad I got. Mom's right, you worked well together. I mean, you made me that pretty, and, well, I guess Holden can be cute, too. You guys rock!

Mom says I look more and more like you, but with her hair, eyes and dimples. Holden has your eyes, they're so pretty. I like my eyes because they're like Mom's and like totally awesome because their color changes, but I wish I'd have had one from you and one from Mom. Like one blue, one hazel! Now that would be cool. Mom says that she sees you in both of us. Holden has your hands and I got your smile. We're like pieces of you.

I wish you haven't left us. I know why you're not here, but I wish you were. Not just for me, and not only because I miss you Dad, like, really really miss you. Like when we were going to the swings, you would always carry me on your shoulder when I was tired of walking, and when we were preparing Holden's birthday, we would find special places to hide his presents, and when we killed the monster under my bed with your scarf and my Nurse Barbie and when we were sneaking to the mall behind Mom's back to get her a surprise pear cake when she had a bad day at work. I miss having a dad and doing all that stuffs with you. I miss you as big as the sky.

But I wish you were here because Mom would stop crying. I remember after you left, Mom, Holden and me were sleeping together in your room. I loved it. I didn't want Mom to be alone so one night, I went to her room, and there already was Holden on the bed. I was crying because you were gone and Holden was crying because Mom and I were crying. I was a little jealous of him because he wasn't really realizing that our Dad wouldn't come back. He was just sad that we were really sad. Mom held us really tight until we stopped crying. She was always in between Holden and me. She said it was because she could keep both of us closer to her, but I think it was because she was scared we would leave her too. We were using her as a pillow, I always had my legs on her, and Holden would always take her for his giant Tigger Sebastian. I still don't get why he called it Tigger Sebastian. I'm sure it's because he heard it when Mom and Aunt Peyt watched that oldie movie _Cruel Intentions. _

Now, I sleep in my room, Mom made Aunt Peyt paint my room with all those cool stuffs on the walls. It's funny to try to guess what the drawings mean. And Holden sleep most of the nights in his room. He keeps saying he's a loner just like you, and that he likes sleeping alone but I know sometimes he ends up with Mom. And once in awhile, we have this huge pillow fight and tickle fest in the night and we end up falling asleep together like before.

Mom is better, too. She smiles every time I try to get her buy me a new skirt, she even laughs every time Holden tries to dance. She keeps saying he dances like you. I guess you weren't a great dancer because Holden sucks at dancing. I'm glad I took the dancing skill from Mom. And some Thursdays, she has what she calls 'girls night' with Aunt Hales and Aunt Peyt. They make what they do like a big secret but I know they buy tons of ice cream, chocolate and does like a slumber party. So those nights, Holden and I eat pizza with Uncle Nate, Uncle Jake, Jenny, Jewel, Ryder and Josh while watching cartoons and playing poker. When she comes to get us in the morning, she always says that it would be her last 'girls' night' ever. But I know she secretly likes sugar hung over.

I hear her at night sometimes. I hear her crying sometimes. I hear her talking to you like you were still here. I don't think she's crazy. I just think she misses you a lot. She doesn't say it, she doesn't tell us, but I know she does. She just doesn't want us to be sad and see her sad. She talks about you everyday. She looks at your pictures everyday, too.

I know she's scared. 2 Sundays ago, we went to see Grandma K – yeah, Holden still calls Grandma Karen like that so the nickname stayed. Some things will never change, right? Well, that day, I heard Mom and Grandma talking. I know, I'm my Mom's daughter with her eavesdropping habits, but it's not my fault if each time I want to grab a club sandwich in the kitchen, people are having conversations. Mom was saying how she was scared that Holden and I will slowly forget about you. She was worried especially for Holden because he doesn't have as many memories of you as I do.

But she doesn't have to worry or be scared. I know I will never forget you, Dad. I think about you everyday. And I know Holden keeps a picture of you under his pillow. We love you, Dad. And it doesn't matter if you're not here to say it, I know you love us. Because we couldn't love you as much as we do if you weren't feeling the same way. We don't have you anymore, but we have Mom, and that's enough. She loves us for both of you. It's almost as if you were here. She's always reading to us that book with the boy whose name is the same as Holden. She says that she reads it for you, too. Because she knows you're with us.


	4. Chapter 4

Hey Dad.

I'm not really sure if I do it right, but I guess that's how we start a letter. It sounds a little lame but I can't come up with something else so I'll go for a "hey Dad".

I don't know what I should say. This is all kinda new to me. I'm not like Mom, I'm not really good with words. I never knew how she could write to you all the time. I can't even start a letter with something better than some lame stuff. I've always seen Mom writing to you on your desk late at night, and I've seen Ros' starting the ritual, too.

I have never known what Mom and Ros' wrote in the letters. I've never even asked. I've read every Ros' diary, but I've never read her letters. I knew where she put them. She had 2 boxes full of them in a compartment of her bed.

I guess I should talk about me, right? So that you'll know few stuff about my life. Well I'm Holden D. Scott, I'm 18 and I just graduated from Tree Hill High. That's it. See, nothing really exciting actually. Oh yeah, I'm the son of Brooke and Lucas Scott. And my dad died 14 years ago.

The story of my life. You died.

I know who you were. You were that bookworm loner brooding guy Mom fell in love with in the same High School Ros' and I went, and proposed to her on the beach on a Tuesday rainy night. I know everything about you. Your height, your first job, your favorite book, your eyes color. Mom talked about you everyday, you know. She told us everything you've done in your life, she told us what you liked, what you read, what you listened to. I know how you look, too. I've seen pictures of you everywhere at home, I've seen every video Grandma K and Mom have of you. I've read all the books you've written, all the poems you've published, all the articles you've done for Mom's paper. I've heard childhood stories about you from Aunt Hales, like how you were scared of the Teletubbies. I've heard your High School basket ball records from Uncle Nate. I've heard all kind of things about you from all kind of people.

And yet I don't really know you. I have no memories of you, whatsoever. I don't remember you playing soccer with me, I don't remember you helping me with my homework, I don't remember you carrying me piggyback all around the house, I don't remember you comforting me after breaking my arm. Sad, isn't it? Not really, actually. You died when I was 4. I'm used to it.

I only remember sensations of you. Like a scent I would think of as your perfume that would remind me of you, or like a noise your shoes would make when you came into my room to check on me late at night. I would remember feeling you next to Mom when she was writing, I would remember feeling you kissing the cut on my elbow with her. I would remember feeling you with her. That's how I remember you. With her.

I don't blame you for leaving me. At least I don't anymore. When I got old enough to understand my dad wouldn't be there for me, I started hating it. Yeah I hated you. Mom never knew, and I don't think Ros' even paid attention to it, she was too busy trying to be like Mom and worshiping you. I mean I love you and the image I have of you, and I know you love me too, but I hated you. I hated you because you weren't there for teaching me how to drive, you weren't there for jogging with me in the morning, you weren't there to do some touchdown in the backyard with me, you weren't there to set the trampoline, you weren't there to talk to me about girls - although, I've never really needed that talk since I lived with 2 already. I hated that. And as much as I was thinking that, I knew deep down, I was lying to myself.

I've never written to you before. It didn't mean I wasn't thinking about you. Mom has always said Ros' is like you. She knows how to say and what to say when it comes to what she feels. And I don't. I'm not like that. I don't know how to put words on how I feel. Emotionally, I'm just like Mom. Exposing my feelings on the line is harder for me than for Ros'. She's not scared of getting hurt on the road. I've loved her for that. Physically, I'm just like you. I got your hair, I got your hands and your shoulders. When Mom was looking into my eyes, she would say she always sees the same blue she fell in love with. She always said that she was falling in love with you all over again just by looking at Ros' and me. 14 years after you left, she still loved you, 14 years after your death, she was still married to you and to your memories.

I hated that you left her. I hated seeing a shade of sadness in her smile. Ros' and I have had a good life, we had everything we wanted. We had numerous of uncles, aunts, cousins and friends, we had a great home, great clothes, great education. Mom gave us the best she had, she loved us the best she could - unlimitedly. She gave us the force to believe in ourselves. And she gave us her strength. She loved us. I don't remember a time where she told us she was sad, where she would actually say the words. But I would have done anything to kill that pain in her eyes.

She had always been there for us. She was there at every Ros' heartache, she was there at every play I was in, she was there at our first day of junior year, she was there for every punishment we had, she was there for every boring parents meeting. She threw herself into her love for us and always made us a priority. I will always thank her for taking care of us. I know why she was the woman you shared your life with, and I love you even more for it. I'll always look up to her, she is the only mom I would have ever wanted. I want you to know how great of a mom she was with us. She loved us everyday and showed us how life can be, without having to lie to us about it. She was real about it.

I got your letter 4 months ago. Mom gave it to me before she left. I didn't know she had it for the past 14 years and never talked about it. I can't believe I never knew about the one you wrote to Ros' for her graduation either. Mom was always full of surprises. My letter is in front of me right now. Mom told me to wait until graduation to open and read it. She wanted to make sure I got it from her. A promise she made to you many long years ago and kept until the day she died. She knew it was important for you that she would be the only one I got it from. And today, after burning my gown and cap with Jewel, I read it. I wanted to thank you for it, for giving me the chance to get to know you through that letter. I wish I would have had that letter sooner, it would have spared some doubts and fears I had for a long time. But Mom was right, she wanted to wait the right time for me to have your last words to me, and today was it. I read it and I understood. I just wish she would have been here when I'd read it.

I miss and think about her all the time. It hurts everyday. People think Death is stronger than Life. I don't know if it is true or not, and I guess I will never know. But I know Love is stronger than death. I've known it and been shown it my whole life. Mom loved you even after your life, and I love her even after hers.

Ros' and I had been there for her in every step of the disease. We were there for the first dizziness, for the first vomiting, for the first treatment, for the first results, for the first breakdown. We've been there for every cry, every look and every smile. When she stopped treatment, she was as strong as she has always been. We've heard her last laugh, we've seen her last smile, and we've cried her last words.

_I have known Love in my life. I met Love passionately the day your father walked into my life, I met Love unconditionally the moment I posed my eyes on you, my children. And that is why I can leave without any doubts that I have been happy. You gave me all of you, and that would last as long as my love for your dad and you. Always._


	5. Chapter 5

Both lying on their massive bed, the light blue sheet barely covering their almost unclothed and bare skin. His arms were shrouding her waist. He remained in that soothing moment, only listening to her, inhaling and exhaling steadily, feeling her warm and sweet breath on his face.

"You're brooding. I thought it was my thing." he said quietly, just as loud as a caring whisper.

"I'm not brooding, I'm sleeping." She murmured just as silently, her eyes remaining peacefully closed.

"No you're not, your eyebrow is almost indistinctly frowned and your mouth is closed." He spoke softly as he reached a finger to her lips. "If you'd be sleeping, it'd be slightly open."

"I think you've watched me sleep too much, it's not healthy." She said, hardly audible.

He smiled at the comment, physically so close to her. "It's romantic."

"It's stalkerish."

"I'm your husband, I can watch you as much as I want." He answered back in the same light tone he was using few seconds before. He let his fingers stroke slightly her face, stopping at her lips. "Come on, show me your smile." He said, tenderness and fondness filled in his voice.

The sweet hazel color of her eyes sparkled in the darkness of the room as her eyelids finally fluttered, feeling herself get drowned into him as soon as she looked in the capturing crystal blue color. "How do you want me to smile?" her voice still low and serious.

"It's easy, let me show you. Liiiike that." He said light-hearted, stretching playfully her cheeks to form a smile on her face.

"Luke, I'm serious." She whimpered, placing her hands on his that were still on her cheeks, the hazel and the blue color of their eyes still melting together in an unlocked look.

"That's the point, you're too serious. Come on, let's wake the kids up, make chocolate statues, eat them all and being all hung over tomorrow morning." He finished telling her by placing sweetly a kiss on her nose.

"How can you joke around like that and be all bubbly?" the gravity not leaving her face and obviously not succumbing to Lucas' loving sweetness.

"I don't know, I guess someone needs to be, since Queen B. Happy is apparently gone for the week end." He said, feeling her move slightly her head to give him one of those cute exasperated sigh. "I just wanna cheer things up, I hate when you're sad like that." he said, gently tucking behind her ears the hair he's played with for so long.

"Well, there are some pretty good reasons for that, don't you think?" she whispered, savoring the sensation of his tender hand that still lingers on the side of her head.

"I know there are." he said, his tone leaving for a brief moment its cheerfulness for the first time that night. "But we could, I don't know, throw paint balloons in Hales and Nate's yard and TPing Peyt and Jake's house. Plus it's past 11pm, nobody will know it's us this time." He joked, instantly going back to his playful mood.

"I'm not really in the mood for any of that right now." She said in an undertone.

"Look, I just want things to be normal for a day. It's been a week now, I think I've let you mope for long enough." He said, concern filling his voice. He blew delicately on her forehead and placed sweetly his lips on it.

"Nah, I wanna mope and sulk and pine away some more. I have the right to be." She adorably moaned, burying her face in his neck.

"Well you can try but I'll find a way to make you smile, you'll see." He smiled, holding her even tighter in his arms, caressing her bare spine.

"You don't have to be strong, Luke." she said weaker than she intended it, feeling herself break even more than she already is. "You can stop being like this. It's just me, you know. You can break down in front of me." she finished, sensing the tears slowly coming.

"That's why I don't. You're already having a hard time not tearing up when you look at me, you don't need me crying, too."

Breaking the embrace to meet intensively his eyes, "That's exactly what I need." She uttered, firmly and steadily. "I need you to open to me, to talk to me. And I mean really talk to me," taking his cheek in her hand to turn his face to her when she felt him moving his head to avoid her glance, "not the junk you've been saying to me for the past week. I know you wanna keep me from the pain and tears, but you can't. I'm already hurting," her solid tone long gone to be replaced by her trembling voice, "and you're not helping by pretending everything's okay when it's not."

"Yeah but I don't want you to worry about me."

"Of course I worry about you. You're everything to me, and I feel like I'm losing you, more than I already am."

Tilting her face to make sure her eyes were staring at his, "You're not losing me, Brooke. I'm here." He assured, his voice secure and confident.

"You're not, Lucas." She murmured brokenly.

"Lucas?" he asked astonished, narrowing his eyes in surprise. "Where does that come from? You practically never call me like that, except when you're mad or when you tell me you love me. And I know it's not the last suggestion."

She smiled, "I'm not mad. I'm far from being mad, don't worry." She reassured softly.

She let her hand grazing sensitively the features of the face she needs so much. She loosely ran the tip of her fingers on his soft eyebrow and let it slide unhurriedly on the side of his face. "It's okay to cry, you know. You can cry on me, I'm here for that." She said, breaking the intimate moment with the soft whisper.

He breathed deeply, slowly opening his eyes that remained closed as her hand were traveling his skin. "You're amazing, you know that." He sighed.

"Luke…"

He reached a finger to her lips to silence her and continued, "I'm serious. I don't know what I'd have been without you." Gliding leisurely his hand from her delicate face to her exquisite side and finally place it on her petite waist.

She heaved a long sigh, "You'd probably be a really sad brooding drug-addict hooker trading his soul for some coke and heroin." She replied keeping her straight and fake serious face.

"Thank God you saved me from that life. I don't think debauchery would have really suited with my pretty tan." He said, his face lightening as he saw and felt her smile in his arms. "I really missed your dimples when you smile this week, you know." he said with a certain seriousness. "You should show them off more often from now on. Can you do that for me?" his voice as fond and warm as the hands that were delicately tracing the line of the cleft of her cheeks.

"I'll try." She said, nestling herself even more against his body.

"Promise?" he asked cheerfully as he felt her nod against his chest. "Pinky swears?"

"Oh God, I think my husband is turning into my daughter." She laughed, parting slightly herself from him to take his pinky finger with hers, and kiss it playfully.

"Maybe I'll be as pretty as her." He said hopeful, smiling to himself at the light atmosphere that has been settled in the room.

"Nah, that's not really possible. She's too cute for words."

"Oh I know, she's just like you with her pouty mouth when she begs for some extra cookies. I fall more in love with her and her shading hazel eyes everyday."

"Tell me about it, Holden has your baby eyes and your brightness. Once he's through with his nakedness phase, he's gonna break some hearts at school."

"Both features he's got from you." He muttered, as he snuggled deeper in their embrace, his head now resting on her breasts.

Their bodies intertwined, they remained like that in their haven for the longest time, faintly moving with their silent breathing, their skin sensually in tune. Her fingers were running in the blonde strands of his hair, his tracing symbols on her back neck.

"What are we gonna tell them?" she asked, her voice reverting back its gravity.

"The truth, I guess. They're smart, they're gonna understand."

"You think?" she said, taking his face with her petite hands and lifted it from her chest. "I barely can, and I've known it for awhile."

"Brooke…"

"I don't understand." Her voice falling apart. She lifted herself to sit up. "Why is that happening to you, to us? We were having a great life, and now – now everything's just shattering around us." She choked out, finding harder to manage to speak through her cries.

"Hey, we still have the kids, and you still have me." He whispered as he kissed her tears away. He then placed her head on his torso, resting his chin on it and held her tightly, trying to make the pain fading away.

"But you're leaving me." She murmured, her eyes now pouring uncontrollably on his chest. "You're leaving me." She brokenly repeated.

"I'm not leaving now." He whispered to her ear. "Two, three years is very far from now." He said, trying his best to sound strong as he felt his heart wrench at the sight of her break down.

"But you will." she cried, reluctantly breaking away from him as she dried her cheeks with the back of her hands. "You were supposed to stay with me longer than that, like – my whole life." She choked back a painful lament. "I hate all of this. I hate that you had to go through that, I hate that it's happening to you, I hate that I can't help you. And worst of all, I hate having to tell the kids they're gonna lose their father. I hate having to think I'm gonna lose my husband."

He shrouded his arms from behind her, his hands joining together on her breasts, posing his cheek on hers as he pressed his chest on her back, "I don't want you to think about it now. I just want you to be okay for now." He said.

"How can I be okay? You're dying, Lucas!" She let out a loud cry, sounding more like a broken shout, her figure quivering.

Silence has never been so sharp, it has never been so painful to them like it was at this moment. She could feel his heart pounding loudly on her back and he could sense the beat of her heart underneath his hands. He was feeling her trembling beneath his embrace and rocked her for a while, blowing warmly on her neck and placing butterfly kisses on her bare shoulder to try to appease her weeps. When he ceased feeling her tears dropping on his arm, he rested his lips on her neck. She placed a hand on his that were still covering protectively her breasts, still leaning back onto his chest.

"Finally." He murmured after a moment.

"What?" she asked, as quiet as his murmur.

"You finally say the words. You haven't before." He paused. "You yelled, you broke down, you brooded, you cried, you threw some things out of the windows and eventually at me but you've never said it." he finished, his voice calm.

"I know." She whispered back, closing her tired eyes, tears unstoppably flowing.

"You're ready to talk about it now?"

She gently broke away from his arms to face him and look into his teary eyes, intertwining her fingers with his. She looked down at their hands, hers tracing unconsciously circles on his knuckles and smiled sadly. She placed a sweet kiss on his backhand and kept playing with his fingers.

"You know, sometimes, I've asked myself what I'd do if one day I'd go blind or deaf, or if I'd lose an arm or a leg. You know, all those kinds of life-changing things." She said, still looking down at their attached hands. "But I've never thought what my life would be if I lose you. I just can't."

"You'll learn."

"I don't want to." She said utterly, finally looking up to meet his eyes. "I love our life. I don't want you to leave it." She continued, the shade of sorrow in her voice overcoming the sudden strength her tone had gained few moments before.

"Brooke, everything's gonna be okay." He said confidently, his hands long gone from hers, now holding her face straight to make her look at him into his eyes. "You're strong. You'll have a good life. I know you will. It won't be for awhile but I promise you, you're gonna be fine."

"I don't wanna be fine, I wanna be with you." She cried hopelessly, nestling her cheeks even more in his hands.

"And you are. I'm gonna stick around here for a little more, you know." He said gently, squeezing softly her cheeks.

"That's not enough for me. I want you forever."

"You have me, Brooke." He said, feeling her warm tears pouring on his hands.

"But I don't want you to leave me. What am I gonna do without you? What about the kids?" He heard her helplessly voice, breaking even more as seconds flow.

"They'll have you. I'm sure they're gonna be great."

"They need their father._ I_ need their father." She cried, wiping away the tears that were blurring her vision. "I can't do it alone." She finished painfully, feeling herself quivering.

"You can and you will, Brooke, I promise." He started, holding her shoulder firmly to make her listen to his words. "It's gonna be hard for awhile but you're strong, and I believe you'll make it. I'm not worried about that." His voice softening as he smiled at her, caressing the sweet skin of her collarbone with the tip of his fingers. "It might be the end for me, but it's not yours."

"It doesn't feel like it to me." She whispered brokenly. She placed her hand above his, that was still above her chest, and pulled him to her to make him feel closer to her.

He threw himself into her, his arms shrouding her frenetically, their physical closeness equaling the weigh of their intimacy that has overcome him. He leaned toward her ears, "Don't say that, Brooke. Your life doesn't end here with me."

"How can you say that?" He heard her say, feeling her body shaking under him.

Still holding her tight, "You're the strongest woman in my life." He said fondly as he squeezed her shoulders. "I believe you can do anything because you've always fought for what you wanted. This won't change."

"But that's not what I want." She nestled her head deeper in his shoulder, trying to catch her breath. He felt her lips quivering against his skin as her warm tears were rolling onto his back. "I don't want to live my life if you're not a part of it, and think this is fine. It can't be." She shook her head as she broke away from the embrace. "I won't have you, that's too much I can take." She managed to say through her sobs.

"But I won't be gone. Not completely." He said as he rested his forehead on hers. "You'll just have to look at the kids. I'll live through them and the memories. I want you to have a great life." When he felt her moving to protest, he gently silenced her by cupping her face in his hands, "I want you to promise me you'll keep going. You did it for me when we lost the baby, you'll do it again. For Holden and Ros'." He paused. "For us." He whispered. She looked up at him and smiled.

She closes her eyes, smiling truthfully and genuinely, as she let herself dipping into the memory and sighed. "Y_ou'll be my _Heart-Catcher_. And I will remember this moment of you." _She quoted in a dreamy voice. "12 years later I still think about that day. I still remember. It was a Monday and you were shaking of cold, all cute with your quivering but so kissable lips and - "

"And I gave you our book." He finished for her.

She smiled, tilting her head. "You made me fall in love with it." She whispered amorously to him. "_The Heart-catcher_."

"I think you just love the name." He grabbed her hands and nestled into them. "I remember you even wanted me to change my name for Holden." He mumbled against her palms.

"I was so naïve back then" She paused, smiling sheepishly. "I didn't know it would've been even prettier on our son." She finished, arching her eyebrow wickedly.

"Come here." He smiled as he pulled her to him, making them both fall back on the bed.

As he laid on his back, her on top of him, he felt her mustering all the remaining might she had left to hold him. Her soft auburn hair was spread all over his chest and face, the delicate and precious strawberry scent flushing his senses. He let his fingers find their natural way to her hair and caressed it for the longest time. He felt her move slightly to start trailing butterfly kisses on his torso, her fingers running where her lips moistened. Her hands slid slowly from his chest to his neck, her tongue following their path. Reaching his face, she caressed his jaw line with her delicious lips. With his eyes closed and his hands running down her bare back, she lifted her head lightly after nibbling sensually his ears, and kisses him on the lips. It was soft and tender, until her tongue started to trace the outline of his mouth.

She looked up at him, their forehead grazing, "Hold me. Just hold me." She simply whispered, never breaking her intense gaze from his ocean eyes.

Her hands slipped between his back and mattress to get a hold of his shoulders and started to kiss him again, this time passionately, fiercely. While she was biting his swollen, lower lip, he rolled them over quietly so that she was underneath his body, still clutching strongly onto his back. He shifted himself on one of his elbows not to weigh her with his body, looking so vulnerable with her petite frame in his arms.

She was purely beautiful beneath him. The soft feature of her face has always been subject of amazement to him. Her beauty concentrated on her dashing lips forming the mesmerizing dimples. He placed sugary kisses on each of them as he let his hands sensually running down her graceful neck, gradually reaching her breasts and traced the contours of her perfect curves, lowering his head to blow warmly on the thin skin of her chest. Quaking openly under his touch, she positioned him completely on her, feeling his entire body pressed against her. As she curled her legs up along his waist, her fingers wandered down the line of his spine, feeling him catching his breath along with the shivers she was provoking on him with her simple gesture.

His tongue was melting on hers as she arched her back to feel him closer to him. His lips left an empty void when they left hers, she dipped her head into his shoulders as the humid trails his mouth were leaving on her neck started to melt with the sweat their embraced bodies were generating. She grasped his waist tighter with her legs when she felt his tongue slithers in between her breasts. His hands caressing voluptuously her pelvic bone, he traced humidly the contour of the only piece of cloth that was separating them with his tongue, feeling her body trembling beneath him.

She sensed herself being overcome by the heaviness of the moment all of a sudden. Her sentiments grew possessive as oppressive cries were dangerously verging her heart. His tantalizing butterfly kisses became somewhat tentative yet, sultry. She grabs a hold of the back of his damp neck as he hovered himself on her and tears soon replaced the sweat on her cheeks. He was pinning her body to his though she doesn't realize his weightiness. All she could process was his serious movements, his lips posed on the crook of her neck, slightly above her sensual collarbone. Wouldn't it be for the moistened drops spilling onto on her and his quivers of emotional pain, she would think his raging and uneven breathing was appeasing her skin.

"_Goodnight_, Lucas."


End file.
